


Gotham's Sweetheart Becomes a Father

by Cuffs_Alister



Series: Earth 127 [5]
Category: Batman - All Media Types, NCT (Band)
Genre: Fatherhood, Growing Up, Hijinks & Shenanigans, Mischief, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Spoilers for Round of Robins, Spoilers for The Ones Left Behind
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-21
Updated: 2020-12-13
Packaged: 2021-03-04 09:20:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 11,861
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24847459
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cuffs_Alister/pseuds/Cuffs_Alister
Summary: Bruce has never been particularly good with children (even when he was one).  He has no idea what possessed him to adopt one.
Series: Earth 127 [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1575403
Comments: 3
Kudos: 37





	1. Richard John Grayson

When Bruce Wayne took in his first son, he was certain he was, in some way, responsible for what happened to the boy. Therefore, he owed it to him to take him in and protect him. Before the fall, watching him on stage, Dick Grayson had seemed like an angel, emanating brilliant light. 

The longer Bruce lived with him, the more he suspected that Dick Grayson was the devil in disguise. 

Dick had been very quiet when he first moved in. He hardly spoke to anyone. The social worker said it was the same at his previous placement. He had seemingly become mute after the… incident. Bruce wondered if there was some way he could help him. If he could connect with the little boy, so similar and yet so different from himself at that age. 

Other than the trauma, though, Bruce had no idea how to connect with Dick. He wouldn’t even speak to Bruce, never mind having a full conversation with him. 

But maybe there was something he could do without words to make Dick more comfortable. There was a room set up to be a gym space on the north side of the manor. He could convert that to be an area for Dick to practice his skills. It would be a shame, after all, if he lost that. 

A month later, when he showed Dick the space for the first time, Bruce found out exactly why Dick wouldn’t talk to him. 

“Sank you!” Dick shouted, followed by much more excited speaking, none of which Bruce understood. The inflections almost sounded French, which would make sense given that his birth certificate was French, but the words themselves were beyond Bruce. 

He was knocked out of his musings when Dick (all sixty pounds of him) slammed into his waist. Bruce froze. Dick, who hadn’t said a word to him since he moved in, was hugging him. Bruce decided that maybe it would be a good idea to hug Dick back. 

“Uh…” Bruce had an idea, though at this point, he was pretty sure it was a long shot. _“Parle-tu francais, Richard?”_

Dick looked up at him. Bruce had never realized just how… tiny Dick was until he was looking down from right on top of him. _“Un petit pus. Mais… C’est ne pas ma langue maternelle.”_ He trilled the “r” in _maternelle._

_“Quelle est ta langue maternelle?”_ Bruce asked. 

Dick smiled up at him brightly and said, _“Romanes.”_

***

It wasn’t too long before Dick learned enough English to communicate. Bruce, as a consequence of teaching him, picked up a little bit of Romani. Dick laughed at his accent -- bright peals of it. Bruce didn’t have the heart to be upset. 

In that time, Dick had taken to following Bruce around the house like a little shadow. Now, most of the time, Bruce didn’t mind. It certainly made it easier to keep his eye on him. However, it also made it difficult to escape to the cave under the manor. Or, for that matter, to train at all. 

At least, it was until the night Dick followed him to the cave. 

Bruce had put him to bed for the night, and stayed until he was sure Dick was asleep. He had never been wrong before, but that night, Dick managed to trick him. He probably wouldn’t have known Dick had found the cave at all if he hadn’t heard him exclaim in wonder.

“I want to help,” Dick said, earnestly, as Bruce held him up under the arms. 

“No,” Bruce grunted. 

“But I am really strong, and smart too. I can help.” Dick crossed his arms. “I think you believe I am too small to help, but you are wrong.”

Bruce sighed and put him down. “It’s not that. In fact, you’re a bright boy. I’m sure you could help.”

“Then why _no_ ,” Dick said, imitating Bruce’s voice. 

Bruce crouched down in front of him. “It’s dangerous out there, Dick. You could get hurt, or worse.”

_“Alors, pourquoi allez-vous?”_ Dick looked like he was on the verge of tears. _“Soske…”_

_“Je vais pour ma mère et mon père. Et ta mère et ton père.”_ Bruce gave him a watery smile. _“Je vais pour tous les habitants de Gotham.”_

Dick stood up a little straighter and sniffed. “You love them.”

Bruce nodded. 

“I love them too. My mother, my father, and the audience in this city. And I love you too. That is why I want to help.” Dick looked at Bruce with defiant eyes. “If it is as dangerous as you say, you need help.”

Bruce got the feeling that, even if he didn’t agree, Dick was going to follow him anyway. It would be better to know he was there, and had training than for a small child to be following him blindly.

“Ok,” Bruce said. Dick started to cheer, but he continued. “But, we’re going to need some ground rules.”

The rest of the night was spent hashing out Dick’s training and laying out the rules. He had the gymnastics down. He might even be better than Bruce at using the grapple lines. Still, there was a lot to teach him. 

As they were headed up to bed, Bruce had another thought. “Dick, people don’t know I’m Batman.”

“Yes. It is a secret,” Dick replied.

“People can’t know you’re… you.” 

Dick nodded. “I will call myself Robin.”

Bruce laughed. “I like it. But Dick, that’s not what I’m talking about.”

Dick stopped and looked up at Bruce. “What are you talking about?”

“Anyone who hears you talk will know who you are. Before you can go out with me, you have to learn how to hide your accent.”

***

Bruce didn’t know what he expected when he sent Dick to school, but it certainly wasn’t a call home on the first day. Bruce left the office and sped to the elementary school. They hadn’t given him the details -- only that the principal wanted to speak with him. He really hoped Dick hadn’t gotten in a fight. 

He certainly hadn’t expected Dick to try and make friends by doing a handstand on his chair. 

“You do realize he’s a trained acrobat,” Bruce said, when the teacher expressed her concerns. “He knows what he’s doing.”

“That may well be, Mr. Wayne. However, the other children are _not_ trained acrobats, but they might still try to imitate him. He _cannot_ be doing that sort of thing at school.”

Bruce sighed. “I’ll talk to him about it.”

He was not looking forward to that conversation.

***

Dick was eleven the first time he met another hero. Most of the world considered Batman and Robin to be a Gotham urban legend. Heroes in other cities, however, operated outside of the shadows and dark. One of them lit up the night in a way that made Bruce distinctly uncomfortable. 

The hero Dick met was not, in fact the glowing green one. Or the alien from Metropolis with whom Dick had become quickly enamoured. No, it was a speedster -- around Dick’s age, dressed in yellow, with a shock of red hair atop his head. He called himself Kid Flash.

Dick then proceeded to gasp and sprint up to Rudy West’s son at their next gala. 

“I see your ward has made friends with the West boy,” Oliver Queen said from Bruce’s side. 

“Shouldn’t you be more concerned with _your_ ward? I haven’t seen Roy since you both came in.”

“That’s about when I lost him. He’s probably hiding under a table somewhere.” 

Roy Harper was not, in fact, hiding under a table. Bruce spotted him later that evening with Dick and the West boy. In one evening, it seemed that the three of them had become thick as thieves. 

Bruce smiled. It would be good for Dick to have friends who understood the vigilante life. 

***

When something blew up on the manor lawn the first time, Bruce didn’t think anything of it. Boys would be boys, and what teenage boy wasn’t a bit of a pyromaniac, right? Then it happened again. And again. And it kept happening for two and a half years.

But it only ever happened when Roy and Wally were over. 

His reprieve finally came when Dick announced that the three of them were going to form a “superhero team” (Dick’s words, not Bruce’s). Bruce agreed, with a few ground rules. 

The Flash wouldn’t let up at the next Justice League meeting. He couldn’t know though. He hadn’t been there. He hadn’t seen the scorch marks in the lawn. “No explosives at Wayne Manor” seemed like a perfectly reasonable rule.

***

“Bruce… I have something to tell you,” Dick said, standing directly behind the chair at the Bat-computer. 

“What is it?” Bruce didn’t turn around. He could multitask, and this case would go cold within 24 hours. Dick would understand.

“I’d… I’d feel better if you looked at me while I told you. It’s kind of important.”

Bruce sighed and spun the chair around. 

Dick stood there in his civilian clothes, looking about as sheepish as Bruce had ever seen him look. “I - _J’ai un petit-ami.”_

Bruce stopped breathing for a moment. The longer he stayed silent, though, the more Dick fidgeted. 

“Are- _hem_ \- aren’t you a bit young to be dating?” Bruce squeaked.

Dick visibly relaxed at that. “I’m sure you started dating around fourteen years old too, didn’t you?”

When Bruce didn’t answer, Dick said again, “Didn’t you?” 

“Um… no, Dick. I didn’t start dating at fourteen.”

“Oh… was it earlier?” Dick looked at him, one skeptical eyebrow raised.

Bruce cleared his throat. “No Dick. I’m… not sure I’ve ever dated someone.” After a moment, he added, “Unless… does Selina count?”

Dick didn’t answer. He was staring at Bruce, aghast. Then, he slumped. “Aw man… does this mean I’m going to have to ask _Alfred_ for dating advice?”

Bruce couldn’t help the laugh that escaped him. “You just might. Who’s the lucky kid then?”

Dick stiffened again. “Um… Wally.” It was so quiet Bruce almost didn’t hear him. 

He furrowed his eyebrows. “You and Wally?”

“Is that a problem?” Dick asked. There was an undertone of venom there, like he was ready to fight if Bruce said it was. 

“Well, no, not inherently. I just thought that, if he went for one of you, it would be Roy,” Bruce said, gesturing flippantly, putting on just a little bit of Brucie. 

Dick made a face. “Roy and Wally? How’d you come up with that?”

“Well, I’m pretty sure they’re responsible for most, if not all, of the craters in the lawn.” 

“They’re science bros. That doesn’t mean they’d date each other.”

Bruce put a hand to his chin. “I see,” he said, exaggerating his nod. “You are being safe, right?”

“Holy toothbrush Batman, I don’t think we’re ready for that lecture!” Dick practically shouted. 

Bruce laughed. 

His first son’s first love would end in heartbreak when, to save the world, Kid Flash ran so fast he disappeared. Dick wasn’t even able to properly mourn. 

***

Dick spent more and more time away from home as he got older. The manor seemed empty without his light, even if, more often than not, he and Bruce were arguing about something. Usually, that something was about Dick’s safety. 

Dick officially ran away from home when he was fifteen. Bruce asked Clark to keep an eye on him. Even if Dick hated him, he couldn’t bear to lose him. 


	2. Jason Peter Todd

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bruce honestly thought Dick would be the first and the last. Then, a scrawny, scrappy young boy crashed into his life.

Bruce was out and about as Batman when he met the boy that would, in short order, become his second son. Unlike Dick, Bruce didn’t save Jason, though. He definitely felt horribly about it afterwards, but he kind of… kidnapped… Jason. 

Jason _had_ attempted to hit him with a tire iron. And he _had_ stolen three of four tires off the Batmobile. And he _had_ tried to kick Bruce in such a way as would have incapacitated him, had he not been fully armored _everywhere._

So Bruce brought Jason in for questioning. And then… proceeded to become very attached and adopt him. 

Of course, Dick was furious. He thought Bruce was trying to replace him (he wasn’t). He thought Bruce didn’t love him anymore ( _Je t’aime, mon petit oiseau_ ). 

The next time Bruce saw Dick, it was on the news, wearing a new mask and bearing a Kryptonian name. The message was clear -- Dick wasn’t Bruce’s little bird anymore.

Jason, having had the experience with Bruce that he had, didn’t trust him farther than he could throw him. Really, Bruce couldn’t blame him, but it certainly caused plenty of problems. 

Jason wouldn’t even talk to the tutors Bruce brought in to get him up to speed. According to Jason’s public school records, he hadn’t been to school since he was about seven. He had seven years worth of material to catch up on before he could enroll at Gotham Academy. 

Eventually, Bruce sat down with Jason himself. If Jason wouldn’t talk to the tutors, he would have to talk to Bruce. 

“Why do I need to do this?” Jason asked, voice thick with lower Gotham and scorn -- so different from the last time he’d had to tutor a boy. 

“Besides needing to have a complete and well-rounded education-” Jason rolled his eyes. “- you should make friends with people your own age, and the easiest place for that to happen is at school.”

“You got experience with that?” The tone was accusing, the stare, piercing.

“Not… exactly. But I wouldn’t go using my school experience as a model.”

Jason quirked an eyebrow -- how had he picked that up so fast? 

“Now, lets see how you are in math.”

***

Math, it turned out, was Jason’s worst subject. Science was almost as bad, though Jason seemed to have a basic grasp of most of the concepts. The next placement they were going to work on was English. 

Jason had been in school long enough to learn to read, but Bruce had no idea where his reading level was. As such, he prepared books at a second grade level -- _Junie B. Jones_ and _A to Z Mysteries_. Jason scoffed when he saw them.

Bruce picked up one of the _Junie B. Jones books_. “Now Jason, I want you to open this book to the first page and read aloud to me.”

Jason read the passage perfectly and tossed the book back to Bruce. “Can I choose the next book?” he asked. He was already moving toward one of the shelves. 

“Of course. Do you want me to show you the middle grade and young adult section?” Bruce asked. Maybe Jason _was_ up to level. 

“Nah,” Jason gestured flippantly. “I got this.” 

Bruce was a little worried when he came back with _Great Expectations._ “You sure about that?”

Rather than answer him directly, Jason opened the book to the first page and started reading. He stumbled occasionally, but that wasn’t unexpected -- anyone would, reading aloud. Otherwise, though, he was perfect. 

“Jason,” Bruce asked once Jason got to the end of the first chapter, “How do you know-”

“There’s not much to do, living on the streets you know. I went to the library a lot. After I read all the books in the childrens’ section, I asked Ms. Gordon what I should read next -- she volunteers at the library a bunch. She gave me a copy of _Emma_ and I was hooked.” Jason clutched _Great Expectations_ to his chest as he spoke. 

Bruce laughed. He finally knew how to connect with Jason. “Well, you are welcome to any of the books here.”

Jason’s mouth stayed in a firm grimace, but his eyes opened wide. Bruce gave him a half smile in return.

***

The first time he got Jason to laugh was their first night out together as Batman and Robin. Bruce fell off a roof and grabbed onto a gargoyle on the way down. Jason let out one single _ha_ before he caught himself and schooled his expression back to being surly. 

Dick hadn’t been like this at all. Sure he laughed at Bruce’s expense occasionally, but he was never… _surly_. Angsty, sure. As far as Bruce was concerned, Dick was still angsting. But Jason came far closer to Bruce’s brooding nature, and if he was being completely honest, Bruce wasn’t sure that was a good thing. 

***

When Jason passed his placement test for Sophomore year at Gotham Academy, Bruce brought him to a bookstore in celebration. When they entered _One Cherry Blossom Lane_ , Jason’s expression was completely unguarded -- unadulterated joy. 

“There are so many-” Jason said, trailing off. He kept turning his head, scanning the store.

“And you can pick any you want, Jay.” Bruce ruffled his hair. Jason had grown so much, it wouldn’t be long before he was taller than Bruce. 

“Any of them? There’s no limit?” Jason tore his eyes away from the books to look up at Bruce skeptically.

“Why don’t we start with one. We can always come back for more.” Bruce smiled. “You can also shop in any section you want. It doesn’t have to be at your reading level.”

Before Bruce had finished, Jason had already wandered off into the middle grade section. There were plenty of children’s books missing from the Gotham Public Library, and Dick had never really been much of a reader, so Bruce’s selection was… limited. Of course, he wouldn’t begrudge Jason an adult book, if that’s what he wanted (so long as it wasn’t _too_ adult), but he also wouldn’t think twice if Jason wanted a kids book he hadn’t read. 

With this in mind, Bruce went to pick out a mystery for himself. He’d heard Louise Penny had a new book out. 

An hour and a half later, Bruce wandered back to the children’s section to find Jason sitting on the floor, a copy of _A Wrinkle in Time_ in one hand and _A Brief History of Time_ in the other. He looked up at Bruce, nose scrunched up in frustration.

“B, how many dimensions are there?” Jason asked. 

Bruce couldn’t help the laugh that escaped him. “No one really knows. If this is about that book though,” he gestured to _A Wrinkle in Time_ , “I think you might be overthinking it.”

Jason harumphed and went back to his reading. 

“If you want,” Bruce added, “We could read it together and research any questions we might have.”

Jason looked up, considering. “This isn’t just a plot to get me interested in science, is it?”

Once again, Bruce laughed. “No, Jay, I’m serious. We could get another book when we finish this one, your choice.”

Jason looked at the books again, then back to Bruce. “Could we… maybe get both of them? This one’s kind of interesting too.”

“Of course we can get them both.”

***

After _A Wrinkle in Time,_ they returned for another book. This time, Jason picked a young adult book -- _The Girl in the Steel Corset_. Before too long, though, Jason was once again in the adult section. 

Bruce had to put his foot down when Jason came up to him one day with a copy of _A Game of Thrones_. Jason was just barely fifteen, and Bruce wasn’t really prepared to discuss much of the content with him.

“The bookseller recommended it though,” Jason whined. 

“Did you tell the bookseller you were fifteen?” Bruce asked.

“I’m sure I can handle it. You have any idea what I’ve seen on the streets out there?” Jason dropped just a bit more lower Gotham into his speech. 

“Jason, I know you’ve seen plenty of violence out there. And you definitely have more sex education than Dick did when he was your age. However, these books are in the adult section for a reason, and even if you’re prepared to read them, I’m not sure I’m prepared to discuss them with you.”

“Fine…” Jason relented. 

They went home with _The Color of Magic_ that day instead. 

***

Bruce sobbed over the newest gravestone in the Wayne family cemetery alone. Alfred had gone in already, to take care of the reception. Really, Bruce should have been with him, but he couldn’t bring himself to leave the grave. Jason would have been sixteen in less than a week. 

He couldn’t help but wonder if it would have been better for Jason to have never met him. There was no guarantee that Jason would be alive if Bruce hadn’t taken him in that day, but he probably wouldn’t have gone through the Hell he did before he died. 

That evening, Bruce went out with less armor on than he had worn in years. He was numb to the snapping bones, deaf to the horrific screams. 


	3. Timothy Jackson Drake (Part 1)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After the loss of Jason, Bruce actively tried to keep children out of his life. The neighbors' kid didn't seem to care.

The next time a child came into his life, that child was knocking on his door with photographs and charts and the phrase _I know you’re Batman. You need a Robin_.

Tim was right in his assessment, but really, attempting to insert a Robin wasn’t the point. Bruce wouldn’t put another child out there. And a not insignificant part of him thought the city might be better off without Batman as well. 

_Gotham needs Batman, and Batman needs Robin._

Dick refused to take back the name Robin.

_Batman needs Robin._

Tim came knocking again.

And again.

And again.

The night that convinced him was the night Tim showed up in Dick’s old costume, shivering in the cold, to save Bruce from Two Face. Tim nearly died that night, but that fact hardly seemed to phase him. He had two living parents, but that didn’t seem to phase him either. 

If he was going to take a kid out on the streets again, let alone one that had living parents, he was going to make sure he did it right. If the training scared Tim off, that was just a bonus.

Boy was he in for a trip.

***

Tim didn’t get scared off by the training. In fact, he seemed to take it upon himself to train _even harder_ than Bruce prescribed. It was, Bruce thought, worrying that a teenager had that much focus on something that could potentially ruin his life, and not because he thought it was cool, or he had any reason to want to save Gotham on a regular basis, but _for Bruce._

“Tim, did you finish your homework?” Bruce asked, every night Tim came to train.

“Of course I did,” Tim always responded, punctuated by a yawn. 

Bruce realized that he should have gotten involved in Tim’s life when he started noticing these things, but another child came into his life and distracted him. (And Bruce kicked himself for not being able to handle both of them.) 


	4. Cassandra Cain

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For the first time, Bruce has two children relying on him at once. For the first time, one of them is a young woman. Not for the first time, Bruce quickly becomes attached.

The first time Bruce met Cassandra, she was in the cave, in pieces of Barbara’s old Batgirl costume. Of course, he was on edge -- there was a stranger in the cave. Tim could have shown up with a stranger in the cave. 

Cassandra decided to fight him then. She nearly beat him, too. Probably would have if she wasn’t pulling punches that would normally have been lethal. 

Things were tense for far longer than Bruce would have liked, especially since she seemed to alternate between living in the cave and in Barbara’s home -- never the manor upstairs. As he relaxed, though, so did she. Eventually, they came to know each other’s movements and patterns. They never really spoke, but that wasn’t an issue. It was… nice to have a calm, quiet presence around. 

Bruce, once again, became attached. He brought her quietly into the family, away from the spotlight, as he had with Jason.

She was so untroublesome that her attack on Lex Luthor came as quite the shock. 

***

At her first gala, Cassandra mostly stuck by Bruce’s side. Even though she was getting better at communicating, she was incredibly uncomfortable being around so many people. Bruce had a feeling there was too much sensory information. He could understand that. 

Bruce fully expected her to stick with him through the entire ordeal. As such, he failed to notice when she slipped away. In fact, he was only alerted to her new location when the room went silent. 

The silence rippled through the room in a wave, originating from the spot Bruce knew Lex Luthor had been using to schmooze. Bruce pushed himself in that direction. He was the host of the gala -- if there was an issue, he should probably have attempted to resolve it before the authorities were called. 

As he broke through the ring of people surrounding Lex, it became clear what happened. Cassandra was tense, especially between her shoulders. The knuckles on her right hand were dripping blood on the floor. Lex stared at her in shock, clutching the left side of his mouth. A bit of blood oozed between his fingers. 

“Cass-”

Before Bruce could finish, a person on the other side of the room started clapping. Bruce couldn’t see who it was, but he had a feeling it was Roy. Maybe Selina. No one else here was supposed to know just how much of a slime-ball Luthor really was. 

Much to Bruce’s surprise, though, the applause spread. Maybe the socialites he associated himself with were less oblivious than he thought. 

Cassandra straightened up and relaxed. She leveled Lex with a glare that said _you know you deserved that. They know you deserved that. Feel all of the shame your feeble existence is capable of._

Without any words, Cassandra Cain-Wayne had become Gotham’s new darling. Bruce was proud of her for sticking to her beliefs. 

They still needed to have a conversation about proper gala etiquette. 

***

Months after Tim had started going out with him as Robin, and Cassandra had made an identity of her own, and started training. Bruce still wasn’t sure how to connect with her outside of vigilantism. He couldn’t help but feel he was failing her. 

Then, one day, he came home from a meeting at Wayne Enterprises (Lucius insisted that his presence was absolutely necessary), he found Cassandra watching Dick in the yard. Dick, still wearing most of his work uniform, was doing all sorts of flips and tricks. 

Cassandra looked on in unabashed wonder. Bruce couldn’t blame her. He might not have been as good as she was at reading body language, but even he could see the unadulterated joy and freedom in Dick’s movement. He was practically shining with happiness. 

A week later, he had convinced Dick to teach her gymnastics and acrobatics. He wasn’t sure that was entirely what she wanted, but it was the best he could muster at the time.


	5. Timothy Jackson Drake (Part 2)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It turns out, Tim is a greater challenge than Bruce could have anticipated.

Tim tried to avoid moving into the manor, following his father’s death. Why, Bruce didn’t know. He and Cass had become good friends, and Dick, though sometimes overwhelming, wasn’t adverse to the idea. He had also hidden his mother’s death from Bruce for almost a year. He was only fourteen years old, and yet, he intended to live on his own and be self-sufficient. 

“Tim, please,” Bruce said, one night in the cave, “You are always welcome here. You’re still a child. You don’t need to be entirely self reliant.”

“I’m fine, B,” was Tim’s only response at the time.

Not too much later, Tim showed up on Bruce’s doorstep again. This time, he was with social services.

“Mr. Wayne, are you aware that Mr. Drake has been living on his own since the passing of his father?” the social worker asked.

Bruce put on his best _Brucie_ facade. Faking shock, he said, “I had no idea! Tim, kiddo, why didn’t you say anything? You know you’re always welcome here.”

Tim flinched, almost imperceptibly.

“We have another placement lined up for him, but Mr. Drake has expressed that he is more comfortable with you.”

“Of course I’ll take him in!” Bruce said, doing his best to sound aghast at the idea that he would ever send Tim to another home. Of course, he wouldn’t ever, given the choice, but actually expressing that naturally was a whole different endeavor. 

***

For the first time since Dick had been in school, Bruce found himself sitting in the Gotham Academy office. He wasn’t entirely sure what Tim had done, but the administrator on the other end of the phone had seemed positively _irate_. 

“Mr. Wayne, I understand that Timothy is a very intelligent boy,” the vice principal started.

“Oh yes, he’s astounding. If he’s up for it, I’m considering having him intern at Waynetech.,” Bruce interrupted. He had a feeling he knew where this was going.

“However, that intelligence should be used for more academic pursuits while in school.”

That gave Bruce pause. What had Tim been up to, other than occasionally running off to be Robin?

“What exactly has Tim been doing?” he asked.

“Timothy has somehow remotely changed the bells signalling the end of classes from their usual chime to unvetted music,” the vice principal explained. 

Tim, sitting cross-legged in one of several armchairs in the office, looked almost- proud of himself. He certainly wasn’t admonished. 

As Tim opened his mouth to say something, the bell went off. He let loose a positively _shit-eating_ grin as Bruce held his face in one hand.

“Tim, put the bells back.”

“But I’m still grieving, Bruce!” 

_Grieving my foot_ , Bruce thought. _You’re still smiling like this is your greatest accomplishment in life_.

“Your grief is no reason to subject the rest of the school to morbid, angsty pop-punk.” Bruce shot him a look just shy of the Bat-glare. 

“Hey, _The Black Parade_ may be morbid, but it’s great. Not to mention, half the school is grieving the end of the group anyway.”

Bruce sighed. “Tim, fix the bells, or I’ll give the internship to Cassandra instead.”

***

A new criminal had shown up in Gotham that same summer. This one called himself the Red Hood, though Bruce was certain it wasn’t the Red Hood he knew. That would have meant the Joker was returning to an old alias. 

No, this Red Hood was bigger, more organized, and more systematically violent. He was also better at flying under the radar, to an extent. Bruce likely would have never known he was there without his pointedly bombastic actions, which, really were few and far between.

But boy were they bombastic. A crate of kryptonite stolen from Black Mask. A series of beheaded drug lord lieutenants. And the act that had nearly broken Bruce.

Tim disappeared the Saturday before school was meant to start. He hadn’t come back from his internship at Waynetech in time for patrol -- a behavior that was highly unusual for him. Bruce called Lucius, just to be sure. 

“Tim? He left early today, Mr. Wayne. Went out for a coffee and never came back. We’ve been trying to contact him all afternoon.”

He never should have left Tim alone in the city like that. He should have learned his lesson with Jason. 

With those thoughts, Bruce donned his cowl and swept out of the cave into the night. He would spend the night looking for Tim.

***

When he found him, Tim was lying in a pool of his own blood. His nose was broken, as were several fingers on his right hand. He was willing to bet Tim had several broken ribs as well. There was a gash in his side and one in his left leg. He wasn’t conscious.

Worst of all, though, Tim had disappeared in civilian clothes. Bruce found him in a red and green leotard with pixie boots and a bright yellow cape. A wooden staff lay beside him, snapped messily in half. It wasn’t Tim’s Robin uniform. And based on the writing on the wall in what was probably Tim’s blood, it wasn’t Dick’s either.

_Jason Todd was here._

***

Tim missed the entirety of the first semester of his sophomore year due to a “skateboarding accident”. Robin disappeared from the streets for that time as well.

At the same time, Bruce received updates from Lucius about Tim’s work with Waynetech. While Tim was doing well on the engineering front, apparently his business skills were improving at a rate that Lucius found astounding, and concerned Bruce. If he had learned one thing about Tim since he had met him, it was that Tim always had a plan. And if there was one thing Bruce had learned about himself in that time, it was that he often did not understand these plans until it was too late. 

***

Bruce received yet another call from Gotham Academy the next year. 

“What did he do this time?” Bruce asked. He could have hid the weariness in his voice, but he decided that it wasn’t worth it. 

Fighting another student was about the last thing Bruce expected. Besides an occasional prank, Tim’s civilian persona was fairly mild mannered. He wasn’t supposed to be athletic. He didn’t involve himself with tense situations.

“I couldn’t just let him keep terrorizing that kid! They didn’t deserve it. They hadn’t done anything!” Tim had defended himself. The administration hadn’t cared. Regardless of the reason, physical violence was _not_ allowed on campus. Tim had been expelled on the spot.

“You know,” Bruce said on the drive back to the Manor, “this is a bit too close to following in my footsteps for comfort.” 

Tim looked at him from the passenger seat. His lip was really starting to swell. It was probably lucky he hadn’t cut it open on his teeth, taking a punch like that.

“I know you finished school homeschooled. You never told me what happened though,” Tim said, curiosity alight in his eyes.

“Oh, I threw a member of the track team across the lunch room.” 

Tim leaned across the center console. “You did? What did he do? He had to have provoked you, right?”

“He was picking on Harvey.”

“Harvey? Like, Harvey Dent?”

“Harvey was a scholarship student at Gotham Academy when we were young. The two of us stuck together like glue, at least until I got thrown out.”

Tim was silent for the rest of the ride. Bruce decided that night to make a trip to Arkham, and not as Batman. It had been too long since he’d tried to talk to his old friend. 

***

Bruce had no idea how he was going to explain this one. The first knuckle of his index finger was hanging, severely dislocated, off the joint. Every time his hand twitched, pain shot up the ligaments all the way up to his shoulder. He thought he had a higher pain tolerance than that.

“Jeez B, did you get stuck in someone’s face mask? Your hand looks like Roni Lott’s.” 

Dick was being decidedly unhelpful.

“I think it’s going to have to come off, Bruce.” Tim was decidedly more helpful, even if that was definitely not what he wanted to hear. 

Alfred got to work on his hand. What Bruce didn’t tell Dick was that he was, in essence, right. Sportsmaster, of all people, had been in Gotham, and Bruce, of course, got his finger stuck in one of the eye-sockets of his mask. 

“What are we going to tell the public?” Alfred muttered. Bruce assumed it had been for himself.

“Hey Bruce, I’m suddenly very interested in aerospace engineering. Could you help me build and set off a rocket?” Tim asked, knowing smirk on his face. Bruce was sure there would be mischief in his eyes if they weren’t covered by his mask.

That excuse might just work.

***

“Detective, as _lovely_ as it is to see you this evening, I am not here for you.”

Tim was the one who had figured out that Ra’s was in Gotham again. Bruce was already on edge. He hadn’t received any of Ra’s usual clues. He had suspected something was wrong when Tim told him, but it seemed that the situation was once again far worse than Bruce had anticipated. 

“Then what are you here for?” Batman growled. 

Ra’s eyes shot across the rooftop to the spot where Robin was hidden. “There is a new Detective in Gotham. I quite like this one.”

“Stay away from Robin.” Tim must have caught his eye on one of his old solo missions. 

“Oh, but he is so _very_ intelligent. Not to mention more young and spry than either of us.”

This was a distraction. Ra’s had to have something going on in the background. Batman was going to have to trust that Robin was handling that. He couldn’t let his attention be split. 

“Where’s Talia?” Batman asked. She was notably absent from the situation. 

Ra’s face darkened. “Visiting her _pet_ ,” he spat. 

Nothing about this situation was right. Who on Earth could Talia’s pet be? 

“B- I’ve got Talia on camera. She’s headed to the Narrows,” Oracle said in his ear.

The Narrows was Red Hood’s territory. He and Jason had come to a tenuous peace, largely because Tim had vouched for him. Had he betrayed that to work with Talia? 

“What do you have to do with the Red Hood?” Batman barked.

“I don’t have anything to do with that mutt.” Ra’s looked disgusted that Batman would even suggest it. “Regrettably, Talia appears to have a soft spot for him.”

Batman wasn’t sure he wanted to know much more. 

By the end of the night, Batman had nearly beaten Ra’s Al Ghul in a fight, Gotham had been saved, Talia and Red Hood had done absolutely nothing, and somehow, Tim had acquired a full time job as the CEO of Wayne Enterprises. Bruce wasn’t sure how that had happened. Tim was still a minor. It shouldn’t have been legal. 

Tim would not return to Gotham High for his Senior year. Instead, he stayed on at Wayne Enterprises, the compromise being that Lucius would be his co-CEO. Tim would be allowed the full position once he turned eighteen. 

He still lived at the manor for the most part, but Tim made moves to purchase property _closer to work_. There was a historic building in Chinatown he had left plans for out. 


	6. Jisung Park

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's the normalcy that Bruce really doesn't know what to do with, this time around. But really, Jisung is extraordinary in his own way, and Bruce is more than willing to support him.

Bruce had started preventing an empty nest before he even knew what he was doing. Tim was starting work on a home of his own, and Cass was also moving towards moving out on her own. 

He found Jisung while he was visiting a group home in the Bowery. Jisung was a good kid. Focused. He had a good head on his shoulders, and something Bruce could use to connect with him. Maybe, just maybe, Bruce had a chance to raise a _normal_ kid. 

Of course, it would be just his luck that Toyman would try something in Metropolis that week. Clark was an excellent investigator himself, but still, he enlisted Bruce for help, and who was Bruce to tell his friend no, especially when innocent lives were at stake. 

Any time he wasn’t working on the Toyman case in Metropolis, he was planning a welcome for Jisung. He was the first child to come to his family outside of a major tragedy. As far as Bruce was concerned, that was reason to celebrate. And Jisung was already an accomplished dancer. What better way to welcome him than a benefit for art programs within the city? 

Bruce _just_ made it back to Gotham in time for the benefit. Dick had stepped in for him in getting Jisung ready, but a quick conversation before the party got too exciting revealed that Jisung was already asking dangerous questions. Unfortunately, he hadn’t been able to spend much time with Jisung outside of introducing him to other socialites that evening either. 

And the next day- that had been a disaster. Jisung didn’t want to transfer. Bruce couldn’t blame him, but it was for his own safety, regardless of whether he knew about Bruce’s vigilante activities or not. 

“If this is such a concern, wouldn’t I have been safer at Melisandra’s? Why did you even adopt me? Dick says I’m not a charity case, but it sure feels like it when my only company for a week was a sleep deprived adopted brother who thought I was someone else, and a butler, who while very nice, is old enough to be my great grandpa!” 

Each statement was like a stab wound from one of Talia’s scimitars. He was right, of course. Bruce was already failing with him. He blinked, and there was another small, black haired boy standing in front of him for a moment. So similar and yet so different.

“Jason!” Bruce roared as he stood up. No. That was wrong. This wasn’t Jason, this was Jisung. The young dancer with a bright future and a good head on his shoulders. 

Bruce loved Jisung already, like his own. And instead of expressing that, he laid more responsibility on him. On this boy whose life he had messed up rather horrifically. 

***

Chenle Zhong was an unexpected development, but not one Bruce could say was bad. Jisung made a friend his own age at his new school. That was good. They’d started an extracurricular program all their own. That was also good. 

However, it was because of Chenle Zhong’s insatiable curiosity and sheltered life that the boys found the Cave. Bruce was certain Jisung wouldn’t have been able to do it on his own, even if Cass had decided she was going to teach him some of their skills subtly. But with Chenle, those two were a force to be reckoned with. 

If not for Chenle, Jisung would still be living a relatively normal life, but on some level, Bruce was glad. He didn’t have to keep secrets from his youngest anymore. They could get closer this way, right?

***

As it turned out, Jisung was actually useless at any form of motion that couldn’t be construed as dancing. Bruce was certain it would be a _long_ time before Jisung would go out on the streets. It was a relief. He had been divided on the idea of Jisung becoming Robin since the decision had been made. 

He understood why Jisung decided to become Robin. Chenle was just a little too gung-ho about the whole vigilante thing, as well as not truly understanding how dangerous Gotham was. Even still, Chenle probably would have made a better Robin than Jisung was shaping up to be. 

Then, though, Jisung was sparring with Tim while Bruce watched. They were supposed to be working on throws and grapples, and Jisung was winding up on his back more often than not. 

One of those times, Jisung used some dancerly way of getting up, and in the process, knocked Tim off his feet. 

“Hey B, think we could use that?” Tim gasped on the floor. 

The wheels were already turning in Bruce’s head. “Yes, Tim. I definitely think we could.” 

Jisung didn’t want a cape on his uniform anyway. They could definitely work with this.

***

Bruce was in a Justice League meeting when his phone went off. Jisung had texted him, even though he was supposed to be at practice. Bruce’s brow furrowed. Had something happened?

_Hey, can I have the dance crew over this weekend? Only during the day of course._ It said, when he finally got the chance to check it. 

Was that all? Of course Jisung’s friends were welcome at the manor. 

_Of course you can have your friends over. Just let Alfred know how many and any food restrictions. We wouldn’t want anyone to go hungry._ He sent back. 

He would do whatever he could to support Jisung’s interests.

***

Bruce’s first thought as he walked by the gym to check on Jisung and his friends was that Jisung’s interest was very _loud_. When he looked in, though, it looked like the kids were having fun. That’s what was important. 

He smiled as he walked back to the office. If there was a bit of a bounce in his step, no one mentioned it. 

Maybe Tim could explain why some of the kids were doing handstands. Or Dick. That looked like something Dick would do. 

***

The whole family was hoping for a calm Monday following the weekend they’d had. Someone was targeting Chenle, and one of his son’s friends was a metahuman who had hidden from them for nearly half a year. Not to mention that the men who came for Chenle had shot the friend’s father. 

That calm Monday was not to be. Bruce groaned when his phone rang. The caller ID read “Gotham Academy”. 

“Mr. Wayne? Would you be available to come to the office?” the administrator on the other end asked. 

“Of course! What happened? Was there another attack?” He knew that wasn’t it. He would have heard by now. Still better to play the concerned parent.

The administrator sighed. “No, Mr. Wayne. Your son is in trouble.”

“I’ll be right down.”

What could Jisung possibly have done to get in trouble? Was he failing a class? Did he skip?

***

He walked into the office to see not only Jisung, but also Chenle, Haechan, and one of the other boys in Jisung’s dance group -- the one who had been with them during the attack. Once again, he was struck by just _what_ these boys could have done to get in trouble. 

“What’s this about?” Bruce asked. The principal was the only administrator in the room. 

“We have received… complaints about Danseur’s choreography. It has been deemed inappropriate for an academic setting.” The principal didn’t seem horribly surprised, though the twitching in his eye spoke of annoyance. Bruce wasn’t sure yet if it was at having to deal with him, or with whoever made the complaints.

“I suppose you want me to vet their choreography from now on, as they practice in my home?” Bruce proposed. Jisung winced and Haechan scoffed. “Unless you’re waiting to determine punishments until the rest of their parents arrive.”

“Mr. Wayne, you were the only parent able to come in today. In addition, you were listed as Mr. Zhong’s second emergency contact, his first being several time zones away.” 

That was a surprise. Why hadn’t Chenle told him? 

“Mr. Liu is in a similar situation, though, without a contact outside of Germany.” Was that a request? And why did _Mr. Liu_ shrink at that? 

“So you do want me to look over their choreography? I did check up on them while they were practicing. What I saw looked fine.” The only thing he could see some parents taking issue with was the finale with the twerking (Tim had explained, turning thoroughly red as he did). But then, they were all in high school. Surely they could handle it.

“No, Mr. Wayne. We’re defunding their club,” the principal said. 

Jisung and Chenle barely looked phased at this. Haechan launched forward in his seat, almost saying something, but deciding better of it. Mr. Liu’s mouth dropped open, revealing several gaps in his teeth. He must have been the former hockey player Jisung had mentioned at dinner -- the one who was good at the spinning jumps. 

It wouldn’t surprise Bruce if Mr. Liu was training to attempt figure skating. He certainly had the build for it, rather than being built for hockey. 

“And what brought you to that decision?” Bruce asked. Even if Jisung wasn’t worried, they were trying to censor his son’s art. Bruce wasn’t about to let that happen.

“The parent-teacher association requested immediate termination of the club. This was the compromise we were able to reach.” So the twitching was because of someone else. 

It occurred to him, then, that he was on the PTA himself. Why had he not heard about this? 

“Shall we consider the boys properly chastised then, and allow them to return to class?” Bruce asked. He’d have to be more careful. The Brucie tone was slipping.

With the boys dismissed, and the door closed, Bruce approached the principal. “Who, precisely, is asking for you to censor my son’s artistic endeavors?” he asked, smiling a bit too brightly. 

The principal drew back. Good. 

“The- the motion was put forward by Karen Wysse.”

It seemed that he and Mrs. Wysse were going to have words at the next PTA meeting. Until then, he’d just have to fund Danseur himself. How much money did running a high school dance team cost, anyway?

***

Batman watched from a distance as Robin prepared to jump, grapple-less, off a roof in downtown Gotham. Z and Chickadee had been working on a retractable glider system for him, and Sabre was there to spot him in case it didn’t work, but Batman still couldn’t help but be nervous. 

Then, though, Robin came closer to flight than anyone in the family had before. He lept, the gliders deployed, and he was gliding to the next rooftop. Batman smirked under his cowl. He was proud of Robin. He was conquering his fears. 


	7. Renjun Huang

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's not your fault, Bruce. Stop blaming yourself.

Sometimes Bruce surprised himself with just how masochistic he could be. He knew Renjun was going to be a tough case, but he had no idea just how rocky their relationship would be.

Renjun was only in a group home for a month before Bruce took him in. He had turned seventeen in that home. No one seemed to have noticed, beyond the official documents. None of them noticed how dark his paintings had become (Tim, and therefore Bruce, had been following him on Instagram for a while). No one tried to comfort him as he cried quietly over a binder full of old, yellowed paper. 

Bruce had been keeping an eye on him anyway, since the incident. If he’d just been a little bit faster, Renjun wouldn’t be in this situation at all. The rest of the boys said he was wrong to blame himself, but he couldn’t…

Gotham was his city, and she had stripped Renjun of his happiness and his family. Bruce had a responsibility to him.

He started with a room. Of course, Renjun would have his own bedroom, just as the other boys did, but he also was incredibly focused on his art. Bruce had a room on the south-facing side of the house painted white. He took some old sheets from Tim’s discard pile and put them on the floor of the closet. A trip to the local art supply store saw Bruce return with the passenger seat of the BMW two seater filled with canvases of different sizes. In the trunk was a variety of powdered pigments and paints. It was difficult to tell what Renjun’s medium was from Instagram photos alone, so Bruce decided to play it safe and get a little bit of everything. 

Diana had laughed at him when he told her. “You should probably get him some sizing as well, if you’re giving him watercolors,” she said.

Bruce had to ask her what sizing was. 

Then, Renjun had moved in. He didn’t say much, beyond apparently calling Jisung by his English name by mistake. He stayed as far away from Bruce as he could -- mostly within his room.

And a couple days later, he ran off to the city by himself, disappeared for nearly twenty-four hours, had to be rescued from a decommissioned Poison Ivy trap, and finally wound up in the hospital severely injured after calling an ambulance for the girl he was with. The girl who had, after all of that, apparently died of a heart attack. 

Bruce had wanted to keep him home from school for a while, following his release from the hospital -- give him time to heal emotionally before sticking him in such a situation. (Maybe he wanted to keep a watchful eye on him as well. Renjun didn’t know about the Bat, but already he was a magnet for trouble.) Renjun was insistent though, as was the school board.

***

“Jaemin, what are you doing in the kitchen?” Bruce asked. He’d been sent to retrieve water for Jisung and Haechan, only to find Jaemin mixing up a bright green batter.

“I’m making cookies. It helps me think,” he replied, not looking up from his work. It was… startlingly similar to how he got working on his inventions in the cave. Bruce supposed baking wasn’t dissimilar from chemistry. Maybe that’s why Jaemin liked it.

“And you are doing this in the manor kitchen because?” Bruce prompted, drawing a pitcher of water from the tap.

“I need to apologize to Junnie. I haven’t been a very good friend, and he’s hurting a lot right now.” A bit of green batter splicked up onto Jaemin’s cheek. 

Bruce nodded. “I wish you luck. Is Jeno still here somewhere?”

“Cave, with Cass.” 

***

Bruce really, truly wished Renjun had chosen another method to interrogate his siblings and their friends about the Bat. Threatening bodily harm was not ok. 

He was also going to have to keep a closer eye on his stapler, evidently. 

But of course, Bruce was the one on the receiving end of the lecture. 

Of course.

***

Czeslaw Juszczyk was fast becoming one of Bruce’s least favorite people. They were holding this benefit for summer art camps across Gotham, and he had the nerve to say that he didn’t think the arts were “profitable enough” to be worth it. That wasn’t the point.

He was about six seconds from having a conniption, when Renjun’s head appeared over the crowd. The only clue to what was going on were the two hands- one in each of his armpits. More to the point though, Renjun appeared a bit more than startled.

“Um, you’ll have to excuse me, Czes. I think I might need to rescue my son,” Bruce tried to excuse himself.

“I’m sure any of your sons are fully capable of handling themselves.” Juszczyk grabbed Bruce’s elbow. He had to hold back from throwing the man on instinct. “Now about that-”

“Unhand me this second, Juszczyk, or I swear I’ll send Dickie your way. I’m sure he’d love to talk you ear off about the merits of performing arts.”

Juszczyk balked at that, and Bruce took his chance to leave. 

Renjun started to look more panicked as Bruce approached. He frowned a bit. He understood why none of the kids wanted to interact with Brucie, but surely that was a bit of an extreme reaction.

As it turned out, Renjun had been in good hands after all.

“Diana! Lovely to see you. And I see you’ve met the most recent addition to the family as well,” Bruce greeted as he gave her a hug. It seemed she and Renjun had hit it off.

“Bruce,” Diana greeted, smiling softly. “It is good to see you as well. Renjun and I were just looking for you.”

To her side, Renjun was scowling -- looking every bit the petulant teenager. He had a feeling Diana had tricked him into helping her.

“You were? I’m surprised. Usually the kids try to avoid me at these things.” 

With good reason. Not only was Brucie embarrassing, but much of the time, he wasn’t very child friendly either.

“Yes. We found ourselves discussing art, and I offered Renjun a recommendation to a gallery. As he is a minor though, I require permission from a responsible adult.”

Ah, that made sense. Bruce nodded. The surly look on Renjun’s face was tempered with something else then. Maybe… embarrassment? Or just humility. Renjun’s art deserved to be recognized though.

“Of course you can have your art in a gallery!” Bruce exclaimed, ruffling Renjun’s hair. To Diana he said, “He really is a phenomenal artist. Have you seen his Instagram?”

She had. He had shown her. That was on the Watchtower though. Better to pretend she hadn’t.

“Why no, I haven’t. As lovely as that sounds though, Little One, I would prefer to examine his work in person. Is there a good time for me to do so?” She asked.

“I don’t know. Renjun, what do you think? Huh?” So that’s what that felt like. Renjun had disappeared into the crowd. 

Diana looked amused. “I see you have already started rubbing off on him.”

“I don’t know about that. He’s pretty resourceful on his own.” Under his breath, Bruce added, “Went after one of his brothers with a stapler for enhanced interrogation.”

Diana’s eyebrows rose toward her hairline. 

“Right. Dates. How does tomorrow work for you? I’m sure we’re not busy,” Bruce said hurriedly.

“Tomorrow will work just fine, Bruce. But please, do be careful with that one. He seems… more fragile than the others,” Diana said solemnly.

Bruce watched Renjun stop by the exit to talk to Tim. “You know, Diana, you’re not wrong, though I fear he may have already shattered.”

“Then it is up to you to piece him back together again.”

Bruce hummed in agreement. 

***

Bruce was working on re-roofing a section of the Manor when the call came. Gotham Academy. He wasn’t sure why they couldn’t just let whatever it was go. After all, there was less than a week left in the school year. Hadn’t Jisung’s crew had a performance recently? Maybe they got more complaints.

“Bruce Wayne,” he answered the phone.

“Yes, Mr. Wayne? We’d like you to come in to discuss a problem with your son.” They had the secretary call him this time. Interesting choice. 

Bruce sighed. “If this is about trying to censor Ji’s art again-”

“We have _Renjun_ waiting at the office for you,” she cut him off. “We are requesting your _immediate_ presence.”

“I’m on my way.” 

Despite his frustrations with life in Gotham, Renjun was usually a very well behaved child. What could he have done that upset the administration that much.

***

On the wall on the way to the office was an incredible mural of a barred owl flying through the night sky. Bruce wondered when the school had commissioned the piece, and who they’d hired to paint it. 

There had been a signature, but the office had requested him _immediately._ He hadn’t been able to decipher it. 

Sure enough, Renjun was seated in the principal’s office, with the principal, the vice principal, and what appeared to be the head janitor across the desk from him.

Bruce suddenly had a very bad feeling about that mural.

“Mr. Wayne, we are so glad you could make it,” the vice principal said. There was more venom in that sentence than there had been in any of his previous meetings with administration.

“What has Renjun done to warrant this?” Bruce asked. He tried to sound like he didn’t know what was going on. He had no idea if it worked.

“He’s made a mess of my school, is what he’s done.” The janitor sounded positively irate.

The Principal sighed. “What he means, is that Mr. Huang is responsible for a number of uncommissioned murals that have appeared throughout the school.”

A number? Not just the one? 

“You mean he painted the owl I passed in the hallway?” Bruce asked.

“As well as the cityscape in the lunchroom and the Moomins in the gymnasium.”

“... Moomins?” Bruce asked. 

Renjun shrugged. “They’re cute, and I know someone who reminds me a lot of Snufkin.”

That… didn’t explain what they were.

Bruce sighed. “Regardless of whether they’re good or not, or cute or not, that’s vandalism, Renjun. You understand that that’s actually _illegal,_ correct?” _Please don’t let the school press charges._

“So?” Renjun asked, leaning back in the chair. Oh he was so benched.

“We won’t be pressing charges,” the principal explained. “There still need to be consequences though, and thought you might have some input.”

Bruce thought about it for a moment. “I think he should paint over them himself, with white primer.”

Renjun’s jaw dropped. “But- but Bruce, they’re some of my best work!” 

“Then perhaps you should have gotten permission from the school before you started painting walls,” Bruce returned. 

“Can I at least take pictures? For posterity?” he whined.

Bruce sighed. “If I see them on your Instagram, you and I are going to have another chat -- one I might ask Diana to help with.”

Renjun visibly swallowed. “Yes sir,” he squeaked. 

***

The other murals were just as well painted as the first. It really was a shame.

The school ended up keeping the portrait of the barred owl. 


	8. Damian Wayne

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Given the choice, there's no way Bruce would have left him out to dry. Unfortunately, he wasn't given a choice.

He had a son.

Of course he had a son -- all of his boys were his sons, as far as he was concerned. He loved Dick, Jason, Tim, Jisung, and Renjun with all his heart. Cass too, though as far as he was aware, she was his only daughter. 

Even still, the revelation was… shocking. Of course he’d done a genetic test, just to be absolutely certain.

Of course he would have taken Damian in anyway. How could he leave a _child_ out to dry like that. How could-

How could she?

Their meeting hadn’t been… happy, exactly. Damian had been well bound by Dick by the time Bruce got back from dealing with Gotham Giants nonsense. The manor had been an absolute mess when he arrived, and to say he was unimpressed with Dick fighting a child at least fifteen years his junior would be an understatement. 

He did have to hold back from laughing though. It looked, for all intents and purposes, like the kid had given Dick a run for his money. 

Then, though, Jisung had dropped the bomb. 

“He says he’s your son.”

Jisung hadn’t said anything about Damian’s mother. _Damian_ probably hadn’t told any of them. 

Then, with more pride and dignity than a hogtied ten-year-old should have been capable of, Damian said, “I am Damian al Ghul Wayne, _Ibn al Xu’ffasch_. I am glad to finally meet you, Father.”

_Ibn al Xu’ffasch_. The son of the Bat. It quickly became clear that Damian had been raised only knowing of Bruce as the Batman -- the _Detective_ as his grandfather preferred. He was not aware of any of the work of the Wayne Foundation, or the Neon Knights, or even the recent Park-Wayne Performing Arts fund. 

He hadn’t been told about the Graysons either, if his insistence on Robin as his birthright was anything to go by. _Robin_ , born of Mary Grayson’s affectionate name for her only son, who was still using the name when Damian was born. 

***

Somehow, the first person to earn Damian’s grudging respect was Renjun. When questioned, Jisung had said this happened early on -- Damian was under the impression that Renjun was Robin. He was about the right build, and he was resourceful and _brooding_ (Damian’s words). 

Before he knew that, though, Bruce happened upon the two of them in the studio Bruce had set up for Renjun. It was the first time Bruce had seen anyone use it. 

Damian was sitting in a chair, sketchbook in his lap, while Renjun was at an easel. There were several tubes of paint on the table beside him, along with two powdered pigments Bruce didn’t remember picking up. Bruce decided he would ask about the pigments later. It wouldn’t do to bother two artists at work.

***

The next time Bruce saw Damian with one of the other kids, it was less surprising. There was a glove on the ground between Damian -- looking particularly standoffish -- and Jeno, who looked like he’d rather be anywhere but there.

“Boys, what’s going on?” Bruce asked. He tried to keep his tone neutral. Panicking in front of Damian just then would have been- bad.

“I have challenged your swordsman to a duel, to test his mettle,” Damian announced, still staring unabashedly at Jeno. 

Bruce sighed. “Has Sabre _agreed_?” he asked.

“Nope, no I have not. I’m a sabrist, with maybe a tiny bit of foil training and like one bout of epee. He’s got a chinese broadsword, and I _know_ he almost beat Nightwing,” Jeno said hurriedly. 

Damian turned to Bruce. “Your swordsman is a coward, Father.”

Jeno didn’t move to deny it. Instead, he flushed, causing an odd red glow in his hair. 

Bruce moved to ruffle Damian’s hair. “I can assure you, he’s anything but.” Jeno looked up while Bruce continued. Damian batted his hand away. “If anything, this means the lessons we’ve been trying to give him in self-preservation are sticking.” 

Or, Jeno was unwilling to fight a child. Neither would be a bad thing, though. 

Of course, saying this to Damian, who was shaping up to be a bit too proud for his own good, would most likely have ended poorly. 

***

There was a cat in Bruce’s office chair. 

He had work to do, planning a fall fundraiser for the Martha Wayne scholarship fund. But there was a small black and white cat sleeping in his office chair.

He half smiled at it, begrudgingly, and began taking inventory of his office. He’d take the cat to a shelter in the morning, unless Selina was willing to take it back that evening.

***

Damian insisted the cat was named Alfred Pennyworth (the Cat) and that he was a permanent resident of the manor. Alfred the Human had already helped him acquire food for the cat, and was in the process of setting up a feeding station in the kitchen. 

“He would not be dissuaded, sir,” Alfred said upon questioning. “Not unlike yourself, following the rescue of Ace.”

They hadn’t had an animal in the house since Ace, had they? Maybe a furry friend was just what Damian needed to warm up to life with his siblings, and it would give Damian something to show he could be responsible.

Alfred the Cat was not one of Selina’s, he discovered later that evening. That confirmation was all he needed for the little black and white cat to become a permanent member of the family. 

***

Damian was on the warpath. Someone had left something in his room, though Bruce was having difficulty parsing what it actually was. Dirty, broken, _kitab_ , he’d said. Bruce was definitely regretting letting his Arabic get rusty. 

A quick peak revealed that the dirty broken _kitab_ was Jason’s old copy of _A Wrinkle in Time_. The pages had yellowed a bit with age, and it probably could do with being rebound. Bruce picked up the book, flipping through the pages. There were still sticky notes every so often, with little notes, commentary, or quotes from _A Brief History of Time_ on them. Jason had wanted to keep notes on the book, but he couldn’t bear to write on the pages. 

He must have slipped it into Damian’s room while the kiddo was out feeding the cat. 

Bruce smiled softly, reading the passage on the one page where the sticky note stuck out of the book. 

_“If you are unhappy, sometimes, you don’t know how to be happy.”_

Below it, the sticky note read: _Dick can teach you. You deserve to be happy._

Bruce closed the book and set it down on the bed. He knelt beside it, leaning over the edge of the bed, and cried quietly. 

The note had been for Jason, but he was beginning to realize, it applied just as much to the rest of them. 

“What are you doing, Father?” Damian asked, finally calmed down enough to come back to his room. 

“Just… reminiscing. This was one of the first books I bought for your brother Jason,” Bruce replied, wiping at his eyes. “He loves to read all sorts of books.”

Damian had gone still part way to the bed. “That was… Jason _Todd’s_ book?” 

“It still is, if he ever wants it back.” Bruce sat up on the bed. “It looks to me though, like he wants you to have it.” He patted the bed next to himself, moving the book to the other side. “We could read it together, if you’d like.”

Damian sat down, pointedly not looking at the book. “What use do I have for _children’s_ literature? Surely there is something more productive I could be reading. A history or a political book.”

“Books with knowledge are useful, to be sure kiddo, but fiction --” Bruce paused for a moment. “Fiction reminds us how to be human. Sometimes, I think it might be the only thing that _keeps_ us human.”

“Perhaps…” Damian looked at the floor, glancing occasionally at the book. “Perhaps we could spend some time reading that book.” 


	9. The Family

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After the loss of his own parents, Bruce wasn't sure he'd ever have a family again, save Alfred. A tiny acrobat-boy and all his future siblings showed him how wrong he was.

Under the cowl and the layers of armor, Bruce felt himself raging against the forces of Apokolips. He had begun in honor of his parents -- to protect others from suffering the same way he had. 

So many years later, his motivation, his reason for being, _the Batman_ had changed. He had something to protect. The images of his ever growing family flashed behind his eyelids with every blink.

_Richard John Grayson_ with his wide blue eyes and warm hugs and his Romani accent. _Mon petit oiseau_. He flew through the air between buildings with more ease than Bruce could ever have, Barbara Gordon at his side, first physically, then virtually.

_Jason Peter Todd_ wedged between shelves at One Cherry Blossom Lane, a copy of _The Demon King_ glued to his hands. “He’s like me,” Jason’s voice whispered in his mind. “One day, I’ll rise as high as him.” Bruce had no doubt about that.

_Cassandra Cain_ standing on her toes, one leg in the air behind her, trying to make it invisible. Like the ballerina in _The Steadfast Tin Soldier_. He should have known then that she was his first dancer. The joy radiated out from her face, smile wide as she wobbled.

_Timothy Jackson Drake_ bounding over rooftops, camera around his neck. It had started with pictures of Batman and Robin, but once he was Robin, Tim started photographing the city. That night would be neons in the area of Gotham University. Maybe one day Tim would realize his calling.

_Jisung Park_ and of course _Chenle Zhong_ in a heap on the floor of the cave. Eyes narrowed at Nightwing, caught without his mask. Jisung, who wanted no part of the mask game and yet became the ideal of Robin- graceful, smart-mouthed, a friend to those in need, even when they might not have realized the need themselves.

_Renjun Huang_ standing with Diana in front of his painting, hung in a gallery for the first time. His sky on fire, even more vibrant next to the distinctive green of a Kyle Rayner sculpture. He looked- proud- for the first time since he’d moved into the manor. He’d been healing. He’d been, not happy, but maybe something close.

_Damian Wayne_ asleep on the chaise in the library, Alfred the Cat curled up in his lap. He’d been reading, of all things, _The Demon King_. Bruce had wondered at the time if Damian was becoming closest to Jason, despite not having ever spoken with him, to Bruce’s knowledge. 

_Jeno Lee, Jaemin Na, Donghyuck “Haechan” Lee_ together in the training area of the cave laughing about something that had happened at school. They were all just teenagers trying to be good, even if Haechan would deny it vehemently. He was proud of them all.

He allowed himself to sob once, during the battle with Apokolips. Out of gratitude for the lack of involvement of his children.

As the darkness started to encroach on his vision, he sobbed once again out of regret that he would be leaving them all behind. 


End file.
